Stops
by gveret
Summary: It doesn't happen as often anymore, but it does happen. The difference is that this time, Azula's not alone. [tyzula drabble]


It didn't happen as often anymore. She had her pills and her job and she slept at least six hours each night and she never drank, and it didn't happen as often anymore. But it did happen.

It wasn't her mother anymore; never her mother. She'd been exorcised from Azula's mess of a brain long ago, thanks to Dr. Lao and a dozen shattered mirrors and one remote unmarked grave. So no, it wasn't her mother anymore, and rarely her father either. It usually wasn't even really _anyone_, not a person with a name and any specific strategy for making her want to dig her brains out of her ears with her fingernails. Nowadays, her mind seemed too lazy for any of that.

That's not to say that when it happened now, it was any more pleasant than it had ever been. It's just that when it happened now, it was easier to recognize, but a lot harder to articulate.

The evening it happened again had nothing interesting about it. Azula had been cooking, the cricket-owls had been chirping, the ceaseless Earth Kingdom humidity had been draped oppressively over everything. Even the snarls in Azula's hair formed no unusual patterns. And then things weren't so ordinary anymore.

She was scared, she was angry, she was so confused. She knew something bad was going to happen, she knew there was something important she had to do, she didn't know anything at all. Things lost their solidity or their edges and something about her wasn't intact and everything chafed. She sank.

.

It was early afternoon the following day when Azula finally resurfaced. With blurry eyes and trembling fingers she cleaned up the blood, swept the broken clay into a paper bag, fixed her hair up and quietly vomited into an empty laundry basket (twice). Then she ate the first edible substance she encountered, took her medication, and left the house.

She knew she couldn't go to work today. She was still shaking uncontrollably all over and coordinating large amounts of wildfire would be about as inadvisable a course of action as any. She knew she should contact Dr. Lao immediately after having an episode again. But it hadn't happened in so long – she was doing so well – she really didn't want to start experimenting with dosages again. She'd only just started getting used to the current frequency of headaches and nausea.

She should really go see Dr. Lao. She should eat something. She was hungry. What did she eat earlier? It might have been a piece of caramel candy. Ty Lee cooked sometimes. Where was this awful, shrill buzzing coming from?

She just wanted the dizziness to go away.

.

Azula shifted again on Ty Lee's doorstep. Ty Lee's cold, hard, inconsiderately uncomfortable doorstep. Shouldn't she be more accommodating of unexpected guests who've forgotten their keys at home? There should at least be a mat. There should at least be Ty Lee.

But of course Ty Lee was at work, as Azula should have been. No, Azula should have been at her doctor's. But she wanted to see Ty Lee, needed to see her, and so now she was here, slouched on a sharply angled doorstep and concentrating on breathing evenly and _waiting_.

There was a procession of caterpillar-ants emerging from a crack in the pavement near Azula. One of them wandered out of line and over to Azula's shoe. Azula couldn't even muster the will to squish it. Evidently, she was in very bad shape. She rested her head on her palm. This was not a good day.

"Azula?" she suddenly heard Ty Lee's voice ask hesitantly.

And Azula said nothing, but she looked up, and Ty Lee looked back and pursed her lips just so, as if she exactly understood, and rubbed her forehead for just a moment, and then she walked over, her strides long and her eyes steady.

They hugged with a desperation dismissive of words, close and uncomfortable and urgent. Azula pressed her face into Ty Lee's neck and Ty Lee had the compassion not to make any small soothing sounds.

When they went inside Ty Lee made expensive tea and they sat at the table, Azula's feet crossed loosely at the ankle and one of Ty Lee's resting casually atop them.

"Do you want to know what happened?" Azula asked her.

"No," Ty Lee replied bluntly.

Azula tapped her teacup in annoyance. "Well, I wasn't going to tell you anyway."

Ty Lee sipped her tea very eruditely, but Azula could see the smirk behind the cup.

There was still a sort of haziness in the space around Azula, or maybe the space inside her; something distant and imprecise, something that couldn't be pinned down, something a fist can't be clasped around. But there were also Ty Lee and Ty Lee's voice and Ty Lee's body and the distinct _clink_ of her teacup being put down on the table; familiar, inarguable and complete.

"You waited a long time for me?" Ty Lee asked as she leisurely stroked Azula's calf with the pad of her foot.

"No," Azula lied.

She was always an impeccable liar, but.

"I'm sorry," Ty Lee said.

"It's fine."

Azula's hands weren't trembling any longer, but Ty Lee still held them so tightly they wouldn't have been able to anyway. The tea grew cold and Azula saw no point in letting go of Ty Lee to warm it up again. She wasn't all that fond of tea to begin with.

"Ty Lee." She concentrated on their fingers. Fingers, fingers, fingers are simple. Fingers are weird. "Am I a firebender?"

"Yes."

She could feel Ty Lee's fingers. Between hers, around hers, beneath hers. Real. "Is firebending a real thing?"

"Yes."

Ty Lee wouldn't lie. Ty Lee was a terrible liar. "Okay."

Ty Lee leaned down and kissed Azula's fingernails. Azula failed to suppress a smile.

Ty Lee straightened and hummed in contemplation. "I want to suggest we go somewhere big and open and have a little showdown, but I'm not sure you can handle me kicking your ass again."

Azula felt her blood flare up. "Hm. If by kicking my ass you mean breaking your dainty little foot on it."

"You do have a pretty firm ass," Ty Lee conceded. "But don't change the subject. The conciliatory sex comes _after_ the humiliating defeat, ya know."

Azula would have laughed, but Ty Lee knew her buttons too well. "Let's go."

"Fire Lords first." She bowed stiffly, palm over fist.

"It wasn't even funny," Azula grumbled on her way out while Ty Lee pulled on her boots and snickered.

.

Azula didn't use fire and Ty Lee didn't use pressure points, because destruction wasn't an object just then. Neither bending nor chi blocking was ever necessary for either of them to beat anyone thoroughly up, however.

When they were done, sore and sweating and high on effort and endorphins and each other, Azula surrounded them with a tall ring of flame and pulled Ty Lee closer by the collar of her shirt. It only took Ty Lee a single push to end up on top, of course, but then Azula kissed her, tongue and teeth and all, and she was soft and giggly and not really much of a challenge.

She murmured, "Consider your ass kicked," and Azula thought, _fair_ _enough_.

She didn't say it, though. Kissing Ty Lee again was obviously much higher a priority.


End file.
